Proud of You
by Lifeisforlivingoutloud
Summary: Ludwig Beilschmidt was one of the first among his peers to join the Nazi Youth despite his brother's disapproval. However a new boy and his brother move in across the street, and disrupt Ludwig's plans. Amongst devastating war, deadly secrets and broken relationships, love is not forgotten. How was Ludwig to know that what he wanted may never have been what his heart truly desired?
1. Chapter 1: Gelegenheit und Fortuna

Chapter 1: Gelegenheit und Fortuna

* * *

_September 1933_

"He's gone."

"No. _No_. He _can't_ be gone!"

"He's _gone_. There's nothing we could do."

"No! H-He was supposed to -"

"You can't possibly have believed he would have made it another week! You're such a fool Feliciano! What with your stupid, _childish_ hope -"

"At least I had hope, Lovino! Yes, it may have been foolish, or stupid o-or childish, but at least I believed that he would have made it through! If no one had believed in him, he wouldn't have made it as far as he did! You never did. You _NEVER_ did! That's why you're like this! You think that no one believes in you, but you were wrong! There were at least two people who always believed in you. Grandpa and I! Now there's only me left, and I-I don't know why I bother sometimes. But you're my brother, a-and beneath all of this, I _know_ you're a good person. A good person, with a good heart. T-that's why grandfather and I believed in you."

The eldest brother crumpled to the floor to put his head in his arms. He hicupped as he laughed, tears running down his face.

"What did I ever do to deserve you Feliciano?"

The younger brother hurried forward and sank to the ground beside his sibling. His hands flurried about, uncertain of how to comfort the only person he had left in the world, because he could not yet ease the pain in his own soul.

"Shh! It's okay Lovino! Do-Don't cry! Please! I'm sorry I said such mean things - I-It's just that all the stress and I just feel so sad - it could never be your fault!" Feliciano sniffled as he put his arms around him brother in an embrace.

Lovino held him tightly, like the anchor that held him steady. He screwed his eyes shut in an effort to quell the water spilling from his eyes.

"It's never your fault, Feli. I'm sorry for all the nasty things I have said to you, and will undoubtedly say to you in the future. You're right. Grandpa wouldn't have made it without you. You always made him pasta when he asked for it, or played him his favorite song."

Feliciano knew that all their flaws had been forgiven, at least for now. He felt that all the words that needed to be said were said, so instead hummed what he knew of _La Forza Destino. _Their conjoined sorrow haltingly faded into the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the open window. The emptiness that accompanied the numbing emotions of grief filled their beings, slow as molasses, until it consumed every possible space left within them. The brothers remained in their positions on the floor for what seemed like hours, though it may have only been minutes. Lovino was the first to disturb the silence, which was often a characteristic of his brother. Feliciano stirred as he felt his sibling to stand.

"What are we going to do, Lovino? We're orphans now," Feliciano whispered, the words sounding too sharp, too foreign on his usually cheerful tongue.

The older Italian forced a smile onto his face, "It was fitting of Nonno to pass on the last day of summer. He would probably have wished for this if he could. He left this."

Lovino approached an oak table in their living room, and pulled a creased piece of paper out of his pocket. Feliciano scrambled to his feet and walked to the table. Lovino unfolded the paper. It was covered in ink that formed letters, swooping and curved like the flight of a bird spiraling to the canopy of a forest. He skimmed the last letter written in his grandfather's hand. He laid it flat upon the wooden surface in front of the two young teenagers, and pointed with a shaking finger to one of the paragraphs in the middle of the page.

He swallowed, his throat constricting, "Wait until you finish school. I-I'll leave, and find a job somewhere, just to tide us over until I come of age, and we can use the money that grandfather left us."

Feliciano shook his head adamantly. "No! You can't Lovino! You've been working so hard in school. You're the smarter one! If anything, I should be the one to find a job!"

Lovino looked grim. "Feliciano, you can't. No one will hire a thirteen-year-old. Look," he tried to make the situation more appealing to his brother, "It's only five years. I'll be twenty-one by then, and then I can inherit the fortune. You'll be eighteen and have finished your primary schooling. Besides, that means I won't have anymore homework to procrastinate on, or bastards to deal with in the hallways."

"There has to be another way!" Feliciano begged.

Lovino frowned, before continuing. "Well... It looks like he knew someone from Germany."

"Germany?" Feliciano asked astounded.

"Someone he met during the Great War, sounds like," Lovino responded blandly.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Feliciano pondered aloud, sliding his eyes along the table to look up at his brother.

His brother's brow furrowed. "I don't know Feli. Nonno must believe that he can take care of us, for some reason. And," Lovino smiled again, meeting Feliciano's eyes, "Like you said, I should believe in him a little more, huh?"

Feliciano tried to hide his surprise. "Only if you promise me you'll finish your schooling! In two years, then we can move to Germany."

Lovino looked defeated. "Feli, you know I can't do that. How will we support ourselves?"

"U-uh... I - Can you - Oh I know! Ask that German man for money!" Feliciano perked up.

"We can't just ask people for money Feliciano," the older Italian groaned.

"Why not?"

The elder brother made to answer, then hesitated, appearing to be deep in thought. Feliciano fretfully looked for a sign of cooperation. He received it not a moment later when his brother opened his mouth.

"Fine, only if you promise me to finish your education in Germany - Augh! Get off me!"

The youngest brother tackled Lovino to the ground in ill-conceived happiness.

* * *

_October 1933_

"Ludwig, you must be joking! You can't mean that - tell him grandfather!" The platinum blonde's head swiveled like an owl's, with a speed that Ludwig found to be uncharacteristic of his usually sedentary brother, toward their grandfather's direction. Ludwig swallowed nervously, but stood firmly in place, his shirt collar feeling tighter as each silent second passed by, the quiet constricting. Their grandfather watched him with a tilt of his head, as if he saw something new about his ten-year-old grandson. He failed to say anything for several moments, and his brother's patience wore thin, as always.

Gilbert slowly lowered the arm that had previously been flung toward his younger sibling in an accusatory fashion. He turned his head to look directly at Ludwig.

"Surely you don't mean that. You can't - how would you know? You're only thirteen. You were just twelve yesterday -,"

Ludwig found his lost voice, to interrupt his brother, "You said I could have anything I wanted for my thirteenth birthday. And I want to join the Deutsches Jungvolk. Today," he faltered.

The normally soft _tick-tock _of their grandfather clock down the hall rang loudly in Ludwig's ears. His perfectly shined shoes peered up at him as he glanced down at them. The hallway he barely stood in had never seemed longer. It began at their green doorway with a mat and pile of shoes, the dirtied pairs belonging to his reckless brother. The stairs began not much further down the hallway to greet the upstairs bedrooms, and a small bathroom. The downstairs hallway was lined with doorways leading to locked rooms, only one open. The one Ludwig stood in opened up to the living room, populated by sparse furniture and a clutter of old tomes upon wall-to-floor shelving. The hallway ended at the kitchen, but this moment was far from ended. The blue-eyed German noticed that his shoelace was coming loose, the gray string shaped like an S. He dared not bend down to fix it, lest his brother or grandfather say something.

He could feel the tense air in the room thicken as Gilbert stared icily at his sibling. Aldrich looked more surprised than shocked. It appeared that he was taken aback by the exclamation rather than the declaration itself. It was quite the opposite with the bronze eyed German, who was livid.

The silence was punctuated by the sweat only Ludwig could feel running down his back, making his white starched shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. His brother's earlier rage was settling into simmering fury. He wasn't even quite sure why his family was angry at him. It was common for a young German boy to join the Hitler Youth, wasn't it? His friend Hans Scholl, had joined, and his family was so proud of him, his uncle gave him a black eye to bring to school as his medal. It was encouraged in the organization for older members like his uncle to do stuff like that, Hans had told him, his chest close to bursting with pride. It helped weed out the weak and unfit. Ludwig's stomach had turned at that, but the rest of the boys had cheered and congratulated him. Ludwig just assumed it was because Hans had moved from Ingersheim and was two years older than him, so he knew more things. He thought this would only help add to his case, so he opened his mouth, which in retrospect had not been the best idea.

"Even Hans joined last week! Now all the guys are joining, and I want to, too."

Gilbert's eyes nearly burned into him.

"They've brainwashed you! Fritz joined the Hitlerjugend! Why in hell would he go join the fucking-"

"Hans," Ludwig disrupted him coolly, "Watch your mouth Gilbert. It is proper to address others by their given names, rather than their middle names."

"Ludwig, what's gotten into you! You're the one being abnormal. It's all Fritz's fault. I'm going over to his house to knock some sense into him -"

"Stop it! You'd never be able to understand!"

"Oh, and why would I?" Gilbert's eyes flashed red, and Ludwig could detect the challenge in his voice. Ludwig scowled and narrowed his eyes.

"Because! You're not normal! You could never understand what being a true German really is! Everyone knows it, you just refuse to acknowledge it! Your hair, your eyes, your skin - everything about you is strange! Stop calling me West, you are not Prussian! You are German! Why can you not be proud of that?!"

Ludwig was surprised to find that his brother stood there, seemingly unhurt by his rapid-fire insults. He could tell that Gilbert had been injured by his words as he looked directly into his eyes. Rather than the satisfaction he had been expecting from undermining his brother, he only felt empty, as if the words had carried out his soul and left his body hollow. His rant was disrupted by Aldrich's reprimand.

"Ludwig! I did not raise you to be a young man with this disposition. Your parents would not be pleased. This is not what they wanted."

He flinched as if he had been slapped across the face. Gilbert saw him jerk, and rather than come to his defense as he usually would, he remained quiet.

"Now, quit this nonsense. I agree with your brother, you will not be joining that organization. If you cannot tell me why you believe in this organization or any other, then I cannot believe in your true intentions. That is the end of this discussion."

Ludwig was seething, for a reason he could not place. Rather, he felt his anger was misplaced, and needed to be directed at someone or something. He turned on his heel and left the doorway to walk up the stairs in stifled motions. Gilbert's stony facade fell away, as he turned to his grandfather. Although Ludwig's words had hit him below the belt, he turned to face the elderly man in the armchair beside the empty fireplace.

"Grandfather you mustn't let him - " Gilbert was quick to be interrupted.

"Gilbert, who is Hans Scholl?"

The self-acclaimed Prussian frowned before answering, "He is a boy in my grade. He moved here to Rothenburg when his uncle demanded that his family move. I usually get along with him, but he showed up at school a few weeks ago with a bruised eye, claiming it was his "medal." He is typically so easygoing, I-I don't understand. Antonio used to think they were peas in a pod. He never would have joined such a manipulative group. Ludwig looks up to him, and I wouldn't have disagreed. He would be a good role model, but this organization..." Gilbert dropped off to ponder the rapid change in the laid-back boy.

"He must be the one I have seen walking to the market along this road with his five or so brothers and sisters. His uncle... is the "ideal" German. He moved here to Rothenburg because of the Nazi propaganda. He cannot have simply joined if... I believe his uncle is part of the Sturmabteilung, or the Hitlerjugend's adult counterpart. He can put away quite a few beers. The propaganda has been promoting this town as the quintessential German home. The Kraft dutch Fruede have even been scheduling day trips here," Aldrich mused.

Gilbert was also quick to jump to conclusions, though he was often more correct than people were to believe.

"His uncle must have forced him to join! He couldn't have- wouldn't have joined on his own! That's why his uncle punched him!"

Aldrich said nothing, although his silence led Gilbert to believe he was right. The older brother clenched his fists, not knowing that his brother was performing the exact same action on the floor above.

Gilbert looked unseeing, out the window in frustration. "Tch."

"Grandfather, I am going over to see Roderich and Elizaveta."

"Wait just a moment. Remember that you brother's private business, is not their business," their grandfather reminded him gently.

"It is if it's a group like that!" Gilbert stormed out the doorway without waiting for a reply. Aldrich sighed, watching the street from the window facing the west side of town. He saw his grandson's lean form not a moment later pedaling his bike and standing up on the pedals, narrowly missing the side of an oncoming car. A loud thump from the roof registered in the back on his mind, but he was too preoccupied to bother with the sound. Gilbert steered the bike out of view as a man leaned out of the car to yell profanities and shake his fist in the Prussian's direction.

Aldrich was loathe to admit it, but Ludwig's words had held a vague truth. His eldest grandson was not the most loved in town, which juxtaposed his brother, who was the beloved "Aryan" child. His blonde hair and blue eyes lent themselves to this image, and he was growing rapidly. He was unlike his brother, in that he was filling out his gangly form, while Gilbert remained spindly. Ludwig was only an inch or so shorter than his brother, and was sure to be as tall as Aldrich himself, if not taller. The officials of the Sturmabteilung were already eying him to be the poster child of their organization, and undoubtedly were months, if not weeks away from enlisting Ludwig. They had first approached Aldrich the day Ludwig turned ten to join the Deutsches Jungvolk, the branch of the organization for boys aged 10 to 14. He had quietly seethed at their presumptuous attitudes, and sent them off. However, his grandson was becoming his own person, and he saw that one of his goals was to become an adult as soon as possible. He must have seen all the older boys joining, and felt that this was the best way to make his family and country proud.

Aldrich glanced up at the darkening skies, and pushed himself up out of the wooden chair heavily laden with ornate decorations. He slowly walked into the hallway, a lot on his mind. He shook his head, noticing that Gilbert had forgotten his umbrella in the stand by the door. He peered out the small crescent moon shaped window of their door to see the overcast skies, threatening in their own right. He turned to climb the stairs, placing his hand on the railing.

He reached the landing at the top, and knocked at the thin door that led to Ludwig and Gilbert's shared bedroom. He turned the handle as he began speaking.

"Ludwig, you're usually the sensible one, with a balanced head - Ludwig?"

Aldrich pushed the door open fully, to find what he had been dreading. The room was empty, save an imprint on the bottom bunk bed. The bottom bunk was pristine, and neatly made with the blanket and sheets pulled tight, the pillow placed at the center of the bed. The top was another matter. The ceiling was decorated with faded photographs with white borders, and the blankets were bunched in a knot that looked too tangled to even attempt unraveling. The walls surrounding the top bunk, or rather the wall space within reach of a Gilbert arm length, were covered in clutter. Posters, ticket stubs, pictures, even old birthday cards were stuck to the wall with tape. A mild cheep brought Aldrich back to the present situation. Gilbert's pet bird was perched in his hair, twittering softly the song the elderly man had taught him. It sang a soft rendition of '_La Forza del Destino.' _Aldrich approached the desk belonging to the boys, mainly used by Ludwig for schoolwork. He lightly set his hands upon the old wood as he noticed the open window, with the screen removed and the curtain billowing in the crisp German breeze of autumn.

"Roma, what am I supposed to do? I can barely handle my own two," He asked no one in particular. The only answer he received was the wind blowing in ruby and amber leaves that reminded him of an autumn day in Italy in 1917.

* * *

Ludwig froze beneath the window, and hugged the side of the wall. He crouched low to the ground as he heard his grandfather's voice. His ears strained to catch what they could.

"Roma, what am I supposed to do? I can barely handle my own two."

He did not know if Roma was his grandfather's friend, or someone else. His grandfather spoke of his grandmother in a loving voice, but the tone of voice Ludwig heard him speak of Roma in was usually reserved for a young man speaking of his first love. It was reverent, nostalgic, and somehow far away, as if the words were reminiscent of those spoken in another place, another time.

A soft gust of wind blew by his face, and into the room.

Ludwig's heart thundered as he stayed quiet, and he swore that his grandfather was deaf for not being able to hear it. He heard the window slide shut, and forced himself further against the wall, as he heard a door shut. A breath he hadn't known he'd been holding was let out. The brick wall scratched his back, his shirt providing little protection against the rough building material. He pressed himself against the edge of the building, and shuffled toward the edge of the second story roof facing the alley, where it sloped downward gently. He found himself staring down at the ground, eight feet below him. He misstepped, and a terra-cotta shingle careened off the edge, and shattered on the dirt. A momentary panic seized him. Ludwig stayed as still as a statue, too frightened to move any farther.

_This is crazy. What am I doing? They will find out. I know they will. This town is too small. I should go back._

He was ready to turn back and give the entire shenanigan up, until he heard chattering voices and laughter grow louder as people progressed down the alley. He shrunk back into the shadow of the chimney in an effort to disguise himself. Two groups of people passed, one of boys he knew were a grade ahead of Gilbert, and another of young girls from the Roman Catholic church nearby.

_I must look ridiculous._

Ludwig noticed the last group to pass were people he knew. In fact, he knew them very well. It was Hans, and his sister Sophie. They spoke in hushed tones with murmurs barely reaching Ludwig's ears. Hans wore his shirt untucked, and his suspenders hung about his knees. He dressed very similar to his older brother's friend, Antonio. Lax, without a care in the world. Ludwig frowned. That wasn't proper uniform of the Hitlerjugend. Although, he supposed that his own attire was in varying states of disarray. His sister looked much more put together, dirty blonde hair neatly pinned back and azure eyes serious. Her dark cobalt dress was covered by her russet coat, and gloved hands in her pockets.

All he could catch of their conversation was "die Whisse Rose."

Hans's eyes darted about, until they fell upon Ludwig's figure. He immediately straightened, and seemed to tuck away several leaflets of paper hurriedly into his sister's coat pocket. He shrugged his braces on, and stuffed his shirt tails into the waistband of his pants. His sister went on alert, as if... they were up to something.

Hans only relaxed a tad as he realized it was Ludwig. He stopped walking, and waved up at him. He cupped his hands together to amplify his voice. Ludwig would have motioned with his hands to stop, but his hands were preoccupied with grasping the side of the building in a death grip.

"Great day for a climb, eh Ludi? I'd have to say it is rather unlike you to be sneaking about roofs. Need any help, friend?" Hans asked laughing, though his tone betrayed and note of suspicion.

Ludwig nodded frantically, before remembering his voice. "Y-Yes!"

"Sophie, I think I saw a ladder further down the alley behind Herr Staufer's house. Be a good sister and fetch it for me, would you?"

Sophie darted away, and left Hans to stand below the houses. It would have been a comedic sight to Ludwig, had he been the one on the ground. A very curious vision as well.

Hans's eyes scanned the rest of the rooftops as he asked Ludwig, "What is the purpose in standing on a roof like that on a day like this?"

"I was off to join the Deutsches Jungvolk! But I seem to have run into a slight problem," replied Ludwig.

Hans immediately stopped gazing at the buildings. "But why are you on your grandfather's rooftop?"

"He and Gilbert would not understand that I want to join! I had to sneak out," Ludwig insisted earnestly.

Hans grinned, but his smile did not reach his eyes. "Oh, did you?" Their premature conversation lapsed into silence as Hans let it drop off.

Sophie returned with a small stepladder, saving them from an awkward pause. The ladder only reach about a third of the distance from the roof, but Ludwig could make do. He edged himself to where the roof ended, and sat for a second to gather his bearings. He used his height to his advantage and was only a few inches away from touching the ladder. Hans held the ladder to steady it, and Ludwig took a leap of faith. His feet caught the first rung, and he had to jump the rest of the way to the ground to keep his balance and stop his momentum. He threw his arms out to steady himself. Ludwig looked up to see Hans and Sophie staring at him curiously. He smiled sheepishly at them.

"Thank you, for the help Hans. And you too Sophie," Ludwig looked aside as they gathered around him.

"Anytime Ludi, anytime. Just make sure to warn me first if I need to bring a ladder!" Hans smiled his lopsided grin, more of a crooked smile, but it was charming nonetheless. Close up, the bruise that had been so prominent a week ago was nearly gone. Only traces of it still lingered on the fifteen-year-old's face.

"Of course, Ludwig. You're welcome," Sophie smiled serenely.

"Would you like to come with me?" Ludwig turned to Hans, who looked surprised.

"Go with you where exactly?"

"To join!" At those words, Hans's face darkened.

"Are you quite sure about this Ludwig? Your grandfather and brother aren't to be happy concerning this. Why defy them? You're not usually one to easily dismiss their wishes."

"Yes, Hans. Why would I not? You've inspired me to join," Ludwig frowned. Something about Hans was off.

Hans hesitated, before shaking his head. Ludwig's expression darkened.

"If you are not wishing to go with me, I will go on my own. As I had intended from the start. See you around Hans, and good day Sophie."

Without another word, Ludwig turned and walked down the uneven cobblestone alley into the weak sunlight peering through the clouds. Hans dropped his pretensive smile and scowled, unbecoming to his freckled face.

"This is not good Sophie, not good at all. They're starting to control people, by using every method possible. They had me interfere with a church service yesterday, and I almost believed them. Almost," Hans admitted, his expression unreadable, "It started with all the papers they have been distributing to the country since last year, and then escalated when Kurt von Schleicher was replaced as chancellor by Hitler. Then the Third Reich and Gestapo were established, and then the book burnings... and just yesterday the entire country announced we were to leave the League of Nations! If no one stops them, then I don't want to even think about what will happen! The word war has been on everyone's tongues lately. It's only been fifteen years since the last war! This world is doomed. People will destroy themselves."

Sophie watched Ludwig look both ways to cross the street. "Hush now, Hans. If unfavorable ears happen upon your words, even more unfavorable circumstances will occur. Ludwig is a good boy, but he is very impressionable. At this age, most of us are. I think that is why they aim at such a young group of people. So many people... how can they not see the error of their ways? We'll just have to fight even harder to make them see it."

Hans looked at Sophie in admiration. "When do you start becoming the wise one?"

Sophie picked up the stepladder, while she replied over her shoulder, "When I turned twelve. Ludwig can sort it out himself. He has a good grandfather and brother."

Hans tagged along after her, while muttering under his breath, "Well, we have a good father and mother. They didn't help us."

* * *

"Open up!" Gilbert banged on the door of the large, elegant household. Little was going through his mind other than the scene that had just played out. It did not occur to him that there were other people living in the building whose door he was mutilating, but neither did it occur to him that it was early in the morning for some of them. His bicycle had been cast onto the large circular driveway of the estate, laid on its side, pedals still spinning as if a ghost was furiously cycling. The Austrian-Hungarian household was headed by Roderich Edelstein, but it was really led by Elizaveta Hedervary's grandmother. Roderich had been promised to Elizaveta before they had even been a thought in their parents's minds. Roderich came from a line of wealthy bankers and accountants, and Elizaveta from a blue-blooded line, which was so watered down and diluted through the years that when Roderich's father was ready to court, her mother had been the first to propose. He knew Roderich cared deeply for Elizaveta, and Elizaveta reciprocated his feelings, but they all knew it wasn't love.

They were just so different from each other. Was it possible for two such different people to love one another? Of course, Gilbert liked to think they both worshipped the very ground he walked on, but realistically he knew, that when one finally fell for the other, the third would be left alone in the big world. Gilbert decided that he had as equal a chance as Roderich of Elizaveta falling for him, so it didn't really bother him at the moment. The whole deal about Roderich and Elizaveta being engaged was just a tiny obstacle. The Austrian was too much of a priss to go with the tough Hungarian. The only problem, was that it looked like he loved neither Elizaveta or any of the other girls in his class. It made his head spin too much if he thought about it, so he kept quiet. He was so wrapped up in thought, he didn't hear a voice from the other side of the door.

The door was wrenched open and Gilbert toppled into the house, upon the body who had opened the door.

"Geroff Gerhburt!" The voice sounded extremely displeased.

Gilbert pushed himself off the figure with his arms, successfully pinning the fourteen-year-old beneath him.

"Hey young master, where's Elizaveta?"

The Austrian looked up at him, nonplussed. That's when the German noticed his glasses were missing, and his violet eyes were glaring at him.

"Specs, where are your specs? And why are you still in your pajamas - " Gilbert was good at being interrupted, this time by a metallic clang and his own shout.

"Ouch! Scheisse! Oh, there you are Elizaveta! Now why are you wielding a frying pan at this hour of the morning?" Elizaveta's hair was clipped back, but she remained in her dressing gown.

"Why are you _here_ at this hour of the morning?" Elizaveta replied.

"It's already eight in the morning! You lazy bones aren't even up yet?" Gilbert was unceremoniously shoved off of Roderich and onto the unforgiving tile floor of the entryway. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Seems like everyone's properly peeved. Any reason why?"

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand before replying drily.

"Because, _dearest _Gilbert, in this household we rise at a _normal_ hour. The staff have been let go this morning, as Elizaveta's grandmother feels that we children are being spoiled and do not need and more frills to this utterly extravagant lifestyle we lead. It's a poorly veiled excuse, because we know that my father's business has been going downhill since the protest of shops owned by people... like us. So, to answer your first question, Elizaveta is right here. Your second, you knocked them out of my hands as I was answering the door you buffoon. Third, Elizaveta's rhetorical question should suffice as an appropriate answer. Fourth, because the staff is so pleasantly absent, Elizaveta was so kind enough as to wake up early and prepare breakfast, which you so politely interrupted. Fifth, we are up, and sixth and finally, we are _peeved_ because of all of the aforementioned reasons and I am not quite so happy at being fully woken by pounding on my door and being tossed to the floor."

"Jeez, calm down Roddy. Did you even breathe with that long tirade? Relax a little." Gilbert sprang up off the floor, self-assured and confident.

"You still haven't answered our question Gilbert. Why are you here so early?" Elizaveta pried.

At the reminder of his reason to his journey there, he immediately deflated. Gilbert's jesting expression fell away to be replaced by a serious one.

"It's Ludwig."

Elizaveta and Roderich exchanged glances. Elizaveta ran to the kitchen as the Austrian replied to Gilbert.

"I suppose breakfast can wait a little while longer. Let's go to the drawing room."

* * *

"He did _what_?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were all dressed and sitting in the large room.

Roderich winced as Elizaveta's voice escalated in pitch. His finger idly traced the golden rim of the fine bone china his tea was steeped in. The tea had long gone cold, as the two listened in disbelief to Gilbert wove his solemn tale of only a few hours before. The late morning light streamed through the window, a silent witness to the growing sense of dread in the room. The estate beyond the closed white doors of the large room was slowly stirring, and voices could be heard floating from above the stairs.

Gilbert sighed, and raked his hand through his choppy hair.

"Ludwig's gone and joined the Hitlerjugend, I'm sure of it. Grandfather was never very good at keeping us in the house. We used to sneak out onto the roof when we were younger to watch the night sky for shooting stars or meteor showers. There's been so many times I've snuck out to come see you guys when I wasn't exactly supposed to. I know Ludwig normally would never leave the house without telling grandfather, but I get this terrible feeling that he will."

The hand resting in Gilbert's hair tugged on the light colored strands, and the other in his lap tightened its hold on his pants in frustration.

"I just don't understand why he would do this. I mean, he's the one always telling me what to and not to do! Why would he join the Nazi Youth? Damn it, I _don't_ understand!"

The Austrian boy set his tea on the side table. He leaned forward in the plush armchair to glance at Elizaveta. She looked as confused and defeated as Gilbert. The silence that followed the German's exclamation only further increased the unease that settled into his bones. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Well... you're not sure of it, are you Gilbert?"

"I'm positive," Gilbert retorted.

Roderich mused over the fact, as Elizaveta responded.

"What can we do? If his conviction is this strong, then you what you say must be true. You've said everything that could be said, it sounds like, and if he didn't listen to your grandfather, then what can we possibly say to dissuade him?"

"I don't know!" Gilbert cried. "I feel so powerless, and I hate it! Gott verdammt! I-I'm his older brother! I'm supposed to protect him, and look out for him - I promised my mom before she died!"

Elizaveta fell silent and crossed the room to place her hand upon Gilbert's arm consolingly. Roderich stood as well to briefly squeeze his shoulder in reassurance.

Roderich spoke. "Perhaps... you need to see that this is what Ludwig wants. He's a good child, and will certainly keep himself out of trouble. What's the harm that can come from it?"

Elizaveta was shaking her head frantically before Gilbert stood quickly, throwing her hand aside. Roderich abruptly backpedalled as he cornered him against the chair.

"What's the harm that can come from it? What's the harm? Oh, let's see now, what could possibly happen. Hmm... How could you possibly be that _stupid_? Don't you know what could happen! That place brainwashes them! I've seen them go in, it's complete mind control! Some of them are only ten years old a-and fucking hell - "

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta shouted at him to interrupt his tirade.

"Yelling at Roderich is _not_ helping the matter, in any way. You're taking out your anger on a friend who is only trying to help. Can't you see that, or are you being as thick-headed as usual?"

Gilbert paused, and looked to see the hurt in Roderich's violet eyes. His lower lip was pressed firmly against his top, in an effort to keep it from trembling. As easily offended he knew the Austrian could get, he still felt terrible. He immediately backed up and Roderich sat down into the chair.

"Aw, shit. God, I'm sorry Roddy. You're right Elizaveta, I'm being stupid. I just - I promised my mother. I _promised_. If I can't keep my word, then what does that leave me? You guys, my family and my word are all I have left... "

Roderich shifted over in the large chair to make room for Gilbert. He patted the seat next to him. Gilbert flopped loosely into the chair. Elizaveta came to stand around the low back of it, and placed her arms around the both of them.

"It's alright Gilbert, we understand. After all, we have been putting up with you for ten years now. You'll see, even if it seems bleak, you'll make it through. We'll make it through, together," Roderich smiled at him, and Elizaveta rested her chin lightly upon Gilbert's shoulder.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I promise to continue it, and I will be continuing my USUK one as well. This fic will feature the pairings of GerIta, PruAusHun, Spamano and possibly USUK or Franada. The PruAusHun will sort itself out, as I have plans for it. Your opinions matter to me, so if you want the frying pangle to work out in one way or another, just shoot me a quick PM or review. :)

In short, this story will update pretty quickly, probably about one chapter a week. It won't drag on needlessly, so please stay with me. Reviews are love!

-Lifeisforlivingoutloud


	2. Chapter 2: Unsicherheit

Chapter 2 - Unsicherheit

* * *

_October 1933_

Night had long since fallen outside of the Edelstein-Hedervary estate's windows. It was one of the nights when every star could be seen, despite the heavy blanket of darkness. Ethereal hope shining bright, despite the suffocating thickness of all-consuming doubt. Elizaveta watched the two retreating figures vanish down the circular driveway. Her hand was frozen in a goodbye wish, stuck in a wave that promised to linger in the dusk, long after the three teenagers retired to their bedrooms. It finally clenched itself into a tight fist, then released the pressure. The light flooding from the ceiling to floor windows only allowed her to see the two forms until they completely disappeared.

Elizaveta's arm slowly lowered itself, and she slipped inside the house, despite her unwillingness to do so. She shut the door behind her.

* * *

Gilbert held onto the bicycle's handles with both of his hands. It jostled around as he steered it over the cobblestone driveway. Roderich walked beside the bike, his hands in his deep purple coat pockets. They walked in silence through the wrought iron gates.

They stopped under the first street lamp on the street that ran parallel to the white estate. A stout brick wall sat just a few feet from the black fencing. Roderich paused to lean against the wall, hands still in his pockets. Gilbert took a moment to rest his bike upon the ground, with more care than he had previously given it. He swung himself up to sit on top of the wall, his untied shoe slipping off his foot. Gilbert grimaced as it fell. It landed beside the Austrian, who bent down to pick it up. The lone canvas shoe looked out of place next to his white and black oxfords.

Roderich handed it up to him wordlessly.

"Thanks," Gilbert muttered, as he shoved his shoe back on carelessly.

"Mmhmm," Roderich replied.

Similar to that afternoon, they sat in silence. Gilbert kicked his feet against the wall. The last remnants of his anger coursed through him as he kicked the wall, each kick harder and harder.

"Ouch! Tch," Gibert scowled, and ceased his attack on the brick and mortar, knowing his efforts were futile. Roderich turned his head upward to look at him, his violet eyes sparked with a hint of laughter, as a small smile graced his mouth.

Gilbert immediately felt foolish, and bowed his head to avoid the Austrian's gaze. His legs stilled their motion. Neither exchanged any words as the wind chill increased, and the autumn breeze blew brief spots of color under the lamplight only to disappear into the blackness once more. Gilbert lifted his head, and watched idly as Roderich's brown hair blew in the wind. The gale died down, and his hair returned to the style it had been in before the gusts mussed it. For some odd reason or another, his hand longed to each out and ruffle the perpetually orderly locks. It was just like his nature to want to make the perfect imperfect and expose the flaws hidden beneath that gave everything character.

He started as Roderich's eyes met his. Something about them this night made him feel slightly breathless, like the purple had never been so vibrant, or the flecks of gold never so expressive. This tightness in his throat seemed all too familiar. He had felt it before, two summers ago, when a chestnut haired girl had hit him over the head with a frying pan for the hundred and sixty-forth time. Yes, he had kept track. And that hit on the head had been just like hundred and sixty-three times before that, except, it _wasn't_.

"What are you thinking about Gilbert?"

Roderich's question startled him, and he came up with an answer that wasn't fully honest, but it wasn't quite a lie. It had been in the back of his mind all day.

"My brother. Nothing that you can help, specs."

"Is it the kind of thought that makes you go into the depths of despair for three days, or the kind of thought that you go and make one of your ridiculous plans for?"

"Hey! My plans are _awesome_, thank you very much. Why, that one plan that Antonio asked me to assist him with worked out perfectly. He managed to sneak into your house without anyone noticing! Pretty damn awesome if you ask me. Though, what did he do after that? I never really got the gist of what happened after."

Roderich laughed, as he remembered a year and a half ago when an unexpected and very unannounced Spaniard fell through his second story bedroom window. His guard slipped, as he felt completely at ease with Gilbert by his side.

"Well, not much really. I don't think either of you expected to get that far, because Antonio was about just as surprised as I was. He was just... infatuated with me, and I admit, I was a little enamored with him as well at the time. We didn't know anything. We were only thirteen -" Roderich paused.

Gilbert didn't even skip a beat, though his heart did at the mention of Antonio and Roderich.

"Kesesese, hey, hey, little master. Remember the first time I figured out that girls weren't your only cup of tea?_" _Gilbert teased.

The Austrian's face drained of color, then darkened quickly.

"It's not funny in the least Gilbert! Do you know how frightened - how terrified - I was that you and your big mouth would tell the entire town? Do you know what they would have - will do to me if they found out?!"

Gilbert frowned.

"Aw, come on. I didn't tell anybody now did I? Besides, Antonio was the one who was more likely to tell the whole world! He's like that you know, he can't keep himself contained when it comes to love."

A light shade of rose dusted the apples of Roderich's cheeks.

"I could hardly call it love. We... kissed once or twice, and then we eventually fell out of... whatever it was."

"Why so red in the face Roddy? Kesese, you guys only kissed!"

Roderich scoffed.

"Do tell me Gilbert, like you have any experience in that department."

Gilbert spluttered. He had kissed a girl once. Hadn't he?

"Well, if I met someone as awesome as I am, then I'm sure I would."

Suddenly, he was very eager to get off the topic.

"But anyway, it's a thought that would make me less awesome for three days."

Both of their faces fell at the mention of the situation immediately at hand.

Roderich seemed to hesitate for a second, then extended his hand in Gilbert's direction. The German was entirely puzzled. Roderich huffed, and stuck his hand out further, to emphasize whatever point he was attempting to make.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help me up! I... I'm too short to get up there on my own!"

A smile flitted across Gilbert's face.

"Kesesese, you're such a girl little master."

"Just help me up and keep the comments to yourself!"

Gilbert gripped his hand, and hefted him up, shifting his weight to make up for Roderich's. They landed rather ungracefully in a heap, with half of Roderich's body in Gilbert's lap, and Gilbert's arms tangled up in Roderich's. The German's elbow made contact with Roderich's face.

"Ouch," Roderich muttered.

"Sorry," Gilbert apologized. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm fine."

As Roderich looked up, Gilbert suddenly noticed how close together they were. Roderich's glasses were skewed, and he couldn't see Gilbert's expression.

"Get off!"

Gilbert shoved Roderich to the side.

"Jeez. No manners at all. Were you raised in a barn?"

Gilbert's quickened pulse refused to slow as he formulated a response.

"Well sorry little master. Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths."

Roderich gave him an unamused look as he replied drily, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Gilbert huffed and returned to kicking his feet against the wall.

"My childhood was fine, thank you very much."

"What do you mean _was_? It's not over."

"Hey!" Gilbert pretended to be insulted. He had learned long ago that the Austrian's bark was far worse than his bite, and just perhaps, his own was as well.

Roderich glanced at him curiously, "It's not a bad thing you know."

The German returned the puzzled expression.

"How so?"

"Well, it seems everyone around here is in a hurry to grow up. Heavens knows why. I just feel like... you're - it's a breath of fresh air to just let go of all your inhibitions once and a while, and just live. Though you seem to throw caution to the wind and live like that whenever and wherever you want," Roderich seemed to mull over what he had just said.

Gilbert's gaze had never left Roderich, whose head was upturned and eyes focused on the deep violet sky that mirrored them. He felt out of his element in this situation, unsure of what to do, of what to say - so he just fell back onto their usual routine and banter.

"I'm guessing you're jealous of me," Gilbert tried to sound self-righteous, but it came out as more of a statement than the taunt he had aimed for, "It's quite all right, how could you not be jealous of the awesome me - "

"Good guess." Roderich interrupted him.

Gilbert stared at him incredulously.

"How could you be jealous of me?" To mask his surprise, he quickly added on "Besides my good looks and everything,"

The Austrian finally turned to glance at him. Gilbert dropped his head and pulled at a loose thread on his sleeve.

"I-I mean, you've got your bone china, gold-rimmed plates, and that shirt you're wearing is probably worth more than my bicycle."

The self-proclaimed Prussian didn't know why he was saying this. Why was he saying this? This strange aristocrat was drawing words from him he never thought he would speak.

"Oh, Gilbert. Don't think like that - "

"But you also have a nice house, and a girl who adores you," the German tugged too hard on the string, which unravelled the frayed sleeve even further.

Gilbert forced his mouth to close. He dropped his hands into his lap and fidgeted self-consciously. He didn't like this. Feeling somewhat small and helpless. He could mentally picture the evening from someone else's perspective. A mussy haired and lanky pale teenager, with suspenders and an untucked white shirt, his rubber sole converse untied sitting upon a brick wall with a - who was he kidding, the stupid Austrian had stolen his quite a few times that evening - breathtaking, and pristinely dressed brunette, with not a hair out of place. One a baker's grandson, and the other a blue-blooded aristocrat.

Gilbert started at the hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting warmth in the cool evening air, despite the initial lightning strike it had sent skittering across his skin. The sounds of the nightlife in the town wafted in the air, but all he could focus on was the touch that lingered a second too long. It was followed by a voice.

"Come."

He watched with mild surprise as Roderich landed gracefully on the opposite side of the wall. The dark shadow cast by the wall obscured everything but the glint of kind eyes behind glass. His hand was extended like it had been before, but instead of Gilbert giving him a hand, it was Roderich reaching out to him. The German was about to jump off the ledge, but Roderich interrupted him.

"Wait. Your bicycle! You should probably hide it in the hedges."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Anyone who wants it can take it. No one in their right mind would steal that bike. It's worthless."

The look in the other's eyes bored through him. "Everything has as much value as we give it."

The German quickly thought of all the times he had ridden the bike to see Elizaveta and Roderich, all the warm springs and hot summers, as well as the cool autumns and icy winters.

"Verdammt, why are you always right?" He muttered under his breath. He could almost see the tiny smile on Roderich's face. "Wait here."

Gilbert jumped down to move the bicycle from directly under the streetlamp's light and wheeled it behind the waist-high bushes lining the sidewalk. He catapulted over the wall and landed nimbly beside Roderich.

"Kay. What is it?"

The Austrian beckoned, a motion which Gilbert could hardly see as his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight.

Roderich was quicker than he gave him credit for. The German had trouble keeping up as he followed him through the grass, careful not to step in any gopher holes. He lost the figure as they approached the woods bordering the edges of the Edelstein-Hedervary estate.

"Umm... Roddy, if you're taking me somewhere to abandon me, I think I would rather not go," Gilbert said uneasily as he eyed the pitch black trees.

He stifled a shriek as a hand shot out from between the trees to drag him along. The German's feet trailed along the ground, kicking up leaves and crunching through the underbrush. The toe of his shoe caught on a root and he stumbled.

"Schiesse! Hey specs, slow down!"

"Oh, be quiet would you. You'll scare them off." The Austrian whispered harshly.

"Scare who off? Tell me where we're going!"

Roderich did not reply.

"Roddy?"

The hand grasping his wrist tightened in warning or anticipation. Gilbert couldn't discern which.

They stumbled along in the dark, until the trees began thinning, and the moonlight was stronger.

"Here." Roderich dropped his wrist, and Gilbert wished he didn't miss the feeling of it. They paused, just short of a circle of grass. It was a clearing, with silver blades of grass coated in dew. The moon seemed bigger and brighter than it did from their spot on the wall.

"What - " Roderich glared at him as he held a finger against his mouth, a signal for silence.

Slowly but surely, his eyes grew used to the new amount of light streaming in. It looked like there were little glowing lights... flying about? He squinted his eyes, and strained to see. And suddenly, the little lights grew in number, until it was no longer dark, and the silver hues of the moonbeams were replaced by a soft golden shade, which cast long shadows.

"Oh." It was all he could say. It was a beautiful sight. Hundreds of fireflies flew about, greeting the new night with a dance only they knew.

They stood silently for what felt like hours, but could have been minutes until the sight dissipated into the night, like it had never happened. Gilbert was sorely sorry that it had to come to a close.

He finally turned to Roderich, who stirred and stretched his neck by tilting his head from side to side, loose brown strands falling from his hair.

"How did you find this place?" Gilbert asked breathlessly.

"I just sort of happened upon it one night."

Gilbert looked at him disbelievingly. "You just sort of happen to be wandering through the forest in the middle of the night alone?"

Roderich shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I have not been sleeping well lately."

"So you come to a creepy forest? I usually just grab some food from the icebox and go back to bed!"

Roderich sighed. The magic of the moment had worn off of Gilbert.

"I just... I was looking for something. I don't know what. Everything has been so different lately. The Third Reich is imposing upon this sleepy little town, and transforming it. I guess I was just looking for a sign that it would be all right. This certainly doesn't mean everything will be okay, and the fireflies will surely leave before the frost of winter but... It was comforting to me at the time. You seem to feel like I did. I can't promise everything will work out in the end, but until then, this is what I wanted to show you."

Gilbert looked at Roderich, as if seeing him in a new light for the first time.

Roderich walked into the tall grass, and laid down on it. Gilbert watched him, unsure if he was supposed to follow.

"Must I tell you how to do everything?" The Austrian's voice floated across the clearing to meet Gilbert's ears. Gilbert scowled briefly before crashing through the brush to lay down a few feet beside him.

They lay in silence, the nameless constellations watching them as they orbited upon a ball in the middle of the universe. Roderich felt small, as if all of his problems were nonexistent, and felt the need to tell someone.

"Wouldn't it be grand if we could just... fly and touch the stars?"

Gilbert snickered, not telling him that he had thought the exact same thing. "You're such a girl Roddy."

Roderich waved at him crossly. "No, no, I mean just getting away from it all. All of _this_."

"Why would you ever want to leave the presence of awesome me?"

The aristocrat sighed softly. "Never mind. Why did I think it would get through that thick head of yours?"

Gilbert felt the sudden impulse to disprove him. "No! I do get it! I get that... sometimes you just want to escape this world and leave for somewhere, I dunno, just somewhere else! A-and you just try to be a person that makes you happy, but then other people don't get that, and you try to please them, but by doing that, you just make them and yourself unhappy! And then you hope against hope that one day you can just be yourself."

Roderich had the nerve to laugh at him!

"What! My monologue wasn't sissy enough for you? Because, let me tell you little master - "

Roderich turned to smile at him, and his heart sped up. _Oi, cut that out. _Gilbert thought stubbornly.

"It was beautiful."

And suddenly the evening was much too warm, and he couldn't think straight, and oh, how bright Roderich's eyes were. He also felt irrationally angry, because no one should be able to make him feel like this with three words. Roderich turned to look back at the stars.

"Please Gilbert. I know you're feeling defeated, with Ludwig and all, but don't give up hope. Be proud that you're one on of the only people with it left."

Roderich was only supposed to think about tea and pastries and piano. He was never supposed to think about hope, and childhood, and... He was never supposed to make Gilbert feel so different, and damn it, special. The seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to tens.

Gilbert didn't hear the cicadas chirp, or the winds rustle through the tree branches above them. He knew only of the diamonds that sparkled in the sky and the moon that shone and the sound of Roderich beside him.

* * *

Ludwig slipped into the house through the back door of the bakery. Night had long since fallen, but if he knew his family well, which he did, Aldrich would be in the den smoking is pipe, and nursing a beer, recalling old days. Gilbert would surely be with some of his friends, whether it was the Frenchman and the Spaniard, or the Hungarian and the Austrian. He snuck quietly around the kitchen table and up the stairs. He cringed as one of them creaked, alerting the entire household to his arrival. He paused for a moment, then dashed up the rest of the flight of stairs. He shut his door, his heart pounding hard.

Honestly, it was much too hard to sneak out without anyone's notice. He grudgingly gave Gilbert credit. Ludwig approached his desk, noticing that his brother's yellow bird was eyeing him with its beady black eyes. He covered the cage with the small square of fabric to give the illusion of night as he turned on his desk lamp. He pulled out a small notebook, and flipped it open. The German stopped at one of the pages not covered in his neat scrawl.

_October 3, 1933 _He entered.

_Joined the Deustches Jungvolk. I've turned thirteen today as well. I don't understand why grandfather and Gilbert are so opposed to me joining. I thought it would make them proud. That's what all the boys at school say anyway. I met Hans Scholl along the way to joining, and he seemed... out of sorts. His sister as well. I think they are up to something. I have no desire to get involved. _

_Anyway, the next meeting is in a week. I'm excited beyond words, and I cannot quite say for what. _

Ludwig shut the leather-bound journal and slid it back into its place between the bookends. He set the fountain pen in the topmost drawer, and closed it with a soft click. He crossed the room to his closet, and opened the door to grab his sleeping clothes. Ludwig changed into his pajamas, and sat on the soft fabric of his bed. He stood, only to sit again. He jumped up, and paced the floorboards, his socks sliding soundlessly along the polished wood. The room was suffocating.

The German wrenched open the window, feeling the cold air enter the room.

_What had caused that?_ Ludwig wondered. He remained in front of the window unmoving for several minutes until he turned and walked to his bed. He pulled the sheets on the bottom bunk aside, and shifted his legs beneath the covers. He tried to find a comfortable position, but could not. He restlessly tossed and turned until he heard the bedroom door open quietly.

Ludwig ceased his movement, and at the moment he was facing the wall. He feigned sleep, but through his narrowed eyelids could see the shadows on his side of the wall cast by the desk lamp. He heard a creak on the top bunk and the rustle of sheets. A long arm pulled the cord on the lamp to turn it off. Another rustle of sheets and then silence. He cautiously turned on his side, trying not to make a noise.

"I know you're awake, Ludwig."

The younger brother froze, but refused to say a thing.

"I... don't think you know what you're doing. But I guess like everyone else in this town, you won't listen to me."

Ludwig flinched. That stung a little. There was a long pause following the statement, as if the older brother wanted him to say something. He didn't. Gilbert sighed.

"Gute nacht, Ludwig."

Ludwig stared at the bottom of the bunk, and continued to do so long after Gilbert's quiet snores could be heard. He had been feeling very conflicted, and he didn't know about what until Gilbert had spoken. He didn't want to give it a name either. He had decided to join, so that was what he was going to do.

* * *

"Feliciano, turn the lantern out!" Romano shouted crossly.

"But fratello, the stars are so pretty!" Feliciano responded, feeling happier than he had all day.

Romano stared at him, trying to comprehend his brother's intelligence.

"So why in hell would you need the light to see them?"

"Oh, Romano! You're so smart! I don't know, why?"

"He's just a young kid, he'll be smarter later on, just be patient," Romano muttered furiously to himself as he kicked his feet impatiently in their shared bed.

"Just turn out the light."

"Oh! Okay ~"

Romano sighed and turned over, hogging the blankets.

"Go to sleep soon."

"All right, I will!"

Feliciano stayed up, watching the stars outside of the window. The blankets pooled about his waist, and he leaned against the soft white pillows. He hummed quietly, content to sit and just exist for a moment.

"Ooooh! How pretty! A shooting star! Romano, Romano, RomanoRomanoRomano!" The younger brother jumped on top of the older, who was startled awake. Romano struggled in his blanket cocoon, trying fruitlessly to fend off his sibling's attacks.

"Jesus Feli! What is it?"

"Make a wish Romano! There's a shooting star!"

"I wish you would just go. to. sleep!" Romano huffed and flipped over, determined to ignore his brother.

Feliciano frowned briefly. "That's a silly thing to wish for fratello! Besides, if you tell me, then it won't come true!"

Romano didn't respond. Light snores came from his side of the bed.

Feliciano turned back to the window. Despite the shooting star's absence from the night sky, he closed his eyes tightly.

_I wish someone would love us each as much as grandfather did. _

The Italian opened his eyes and smiled.

"Yeah! And then Romano would be happy, and I would be happy, and then we would both be happy..." Feliciano's chatter dropped off as he grew drowsy. His eyelids lowered, despite the fight he put up to stay awake.

He yawned, and gave in to the clutches of sleep, falling into the dark void of dreamless slumber.

The two brothers sleep the night away beneath the cozy blanket.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Review please :)**

**-Lifeisforlivingoutloud**


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